


Time, Divided by Life

by TimeturnerJay



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog (Video Games), Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Canon Compliant, Chaos Emerald Energy, Chaos Emeralds, Dystopian Future, Gen, How and where did he get his powers?, How did he become a time travelling agent?, I have a few issues with the fanon perception of Silver's character, I want to give Silver the depth he deserves, Master Emerald, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychic Abilities, Psychokinesis, So here are my own thoughts about him and his past, Sonic Rivals (2006), Sonic Rivals 2 (2007), Telepathy, Those are all questions I want to answer, Time Travel, Who taught him about the past in such a devastated world?, exploring Silver's backstory, who is he?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29943189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeturnerJay/pseuds/TimeturnerJay
Summary: Time. It always comes back to time, in the end.He has always had a strange relationship with it; forwards, backwards, frozen, upside-down – the concept of temporal continuity has long since lost any and all meaning to him.But for as turbulent as his personal timeline has become, there still is a beginning to it.There is a point A to the madness, and a frustratingly linear stretch of time that spells out his early life.Silver's name is well-known among the freedom fighters of the past, but his personal history is as elusive as the dystopian future he hails from.Who is he really? How does he wield such reality-shaking power? How did he become an agent of time travel?This is Silver's story, following the canon of his re-introduction in Sonic Rivals.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Time, Divided by Life

**Author's Note:**

> Silver has always been my favourite Sonic character, and I've thought about him and the world he grew up in a lot. I've never been happy with the way the fandom tends to treat and sideline him, and the games don't respect him anymore either these days.  
> That's why I want to give you my own take on him as a character. Given what little we know, his life can't have been an easy one.  
> This story will be canon compliant with the games, but since there isn't all that much to go off of in regards to Silver's future, get ready for a lot of orginal worldbuilding on my part!
> 
> We're starting off with a pretty short prologue to set the scene, but don't worry, the actual chapters are going to be much longer than this.

Time. It always comes back to _time_ , in the end.  
He has always had a strange relationship with it; forwards, backwards, frozen, upside-down – the concept of temporal continuity has long since lost any and all meaning to him. 

But for as turbulent as his personal timeline has become, there still is a beginning to it.  
There is a point A to the madness, and a frustratingly linear stretch of time that spells out his early life. 

Time. He rarely has a grasp on its flow these days, so lost is he in the unmaking of its laws.

Time.  
There had once been a time when he had had no concept of it at all. 

Yes, time – the child in his little containment cell doesn't perceive it. 

He doesn't track the steps of those who pass by outside of the large glass walls that fence in his tiny world.  
He doesn't count his heartbeats in those moments in-between, or wonder how long ago his last meal was and when the next one might arrive.  
He doesn't search the sterile white room with his eyes to find something he can do to pass the time. 

He doesn't do any of this, for he doesn't know boredom.  
He doesn't know boredom, for he doesn't know time. 

He simply sits in his little white room, surrounded by glass walls and pointy, gleaming instruments, and the world passes him by. 

And he sits.  
And he stares.  
And he sees nothing. 

The people that pass by his cell do so with purpose. Their stride is as clean and clinical as the rest of their surroundings, and the eyes with which they check notepads and machine read-outs are sharp and calculating. 

Every now and then they will press a button or flip a switch and the child will jolt in his little glass cage, a physical reaction of pain or stress or maybe both, and then he will go back to sitting still and limp because the needles in his brain keep him from thinking or doing much of anything at all. 

The people in their long white lab coats will clap and cheer and take notes on their notepads, and then they will flip a few more switches or press a few more buttons.

They also cheer, of course, on the day their experiment is finally complete. They cheer as they pull the needles out of the child's brain. They cheer as they replace them with five shards of green crystal, small and thin and unassuming, yet brimming with the power and potential of creation itself. They cheer as they seamlessly seal the incisions with technology we can't yet comprehend, and then they cheer some more as the child blinks his eyes and looks around in puzzlement, truly alive for the first time in years. 

They cheer, and then they don't. 

Because that is the moment the laboratory explodes. 

Or perhaps, “explodes” isn't quite the right word. An explosion would imply fire and smouldering ruins.  
What happens is more akin to a glitch in the fabric of space and time; there is a child, reaching up with shaking hands to clutch at his head, and then there is a shock wave that defies the human senses (though its flash would leave your blinded eyes with the faintest impression of the colour teal), and then there is nothing. No glass walls. No white ceilings. No metal instruments. No scientists. Just rubble, and a fine, red mist.

And in the centre of it all, there is a perfectly round crater, and in it there is a child, his mouth agape in a soundless wail as he clutches his silvery head, a tempest of pure, unconstrained chaos whipping around his small body. 

It's hard to say how long this goes on for, but for someone who has only just woken up to the concept of time, it must surely feel like an eternity. However long it is, the child eventually slumps to the ground in exhaustion, his eyes rolling back into his head as he faints, and it is only then that the unnatural wind around him subsides, winking out alongside his consciousness. 

It's no wonder the scientists were cheering in their final moments. 

They had finally succeeded in creating their ultimate weapon. 

And somewhere far away, on the other side of this burnt husk of a planet, the Ifrit roars and spreads its sky-encompassing wings.


End file.
